HUMILITY OPENS THE DOOR TO DESTINY

In my final year at the university, I remembered we did our class album. Everyone was asked to write what he/she aspired to be in future. With certainty and pride, I wrote that I would be a Chartered Accountant, a name to be etched into the corporate corridors of finance. Chiefs MKO Abiola and Rufus Giwa were my role models then. I desired to walk where they had walked.

Quickly after my youth service, I went for Master's in Business Administration, majoring in corporate finance. I became a professional accountant immediately after my second degree. 

Armed with these credentials, I began to apply for job vacancies, convinced that opportunities would rush toward me. To my surprise, none was forthcoming! I combed Ikeja, Marina and Victoria Island in Lagos, all to no avail!

While I still clung to hope, believing my appointment letter was only a matter of time; my father called me one day, to get myself prepared for Ite'Fa - Ifá initiation! 

I couldn't raise any objection because we are not raised to question an elderly advise. Not even that of my centenarian father. But I wasn't so happy with that decision. I just had no choice. 

My Odù came out to be Osa Esu! And my father told me I am destined to serve in the vineyard of Ifá, and be a priest of Esu! Let it be known that I was a Christian up to this moment. I was a full member of the Deeper Life Bible Church. 

The word Èṣù pierced my heart like a hot knife run through a shear butter. "Satan the accursed," I yelled. Immediately, I rebuked it. I felt guilty instantly, for submitting myself to this sinful process. 

Then came a more fatal blow.

My Ojugbona - Orisalami Folorunsho, said I'm a direct descendant of Esu, and that I can never attain greatness in life without serving Esu and Ifá! 

"What an insult?" I questioned. You have the gut to run your foul mouth on me just because you found me helpless and vulnerable. And I cursed him that, "may you and all your children serve Esu for the rest of your lives."  This curse I invoked in pain but with inner conviction. And I have no doubt that it takes immediate effect. 

To my surprise however, he said Àṣẹ! 

I returned to job hunting with renewed desperation. When nothing changed, I left Deeper Life and began a restless pilgrimage—from mountain to mountain, from one crusade to another—searching for deliverance, clarity, and peace. Seven long years passed. Seven productive years dissolved into dust as I chased shadows.

Then one day, a pastor looked at me and said words that shattered my pride, after a three day marathon fasting. 

He asked me to open my Bible to the book of Jeremiah 6:16; I did. "Read it out," he commanded! And I read:

"Thus says the Lord.

Stand at the crossroads, and look,

Ask for the ancient paths,

Where the good way lies; 

And walk in it,

And find rest for your souls.

But they said, “We will not walk in it." 

“If you want peace in your life, go back home and walk the path of your forebears.” 

He snapped unapologetically.

My over inflated ego was suddenly punctured and it collapsed. Life had humbled me thoroughly. I returned home, broken but ready. And in the third month after my surrender, an offer came—from Lagos. 

This time, I did not abandon Ifá. I kept pace with my studies, listening more deeply, seeing more clearly. It was then that I encountered this verse in my Odù:

Bí wọ́n ba ní bóo tií jẹ́ 

Mo ní bẹ́ẹ̀ náà lò ńjẹ́ Ifá 

Ara ilé Adó 

Ara òde Òkiti Ẹ̀fọ̀n

Bọ́lájòkó ọ̀kinkin 

Tí ńmu eyín erin fọn 

Ará òde Iwanran

Níbi ojúmọ́ ire ti ńmọ́ wa 

Ọmọ ọ̀pẹ̀ kan, ọ̀pẹ̀ kàn 

Èyí tó ṣe ọwọ́ jìwà-jìwà l'ódò

Ọmọ ọ̀gọ́mọ̀ ọ̀pẹ̀ 

Èyí tí ńṣe orí gbàro-gbàro s'Ólóko

Iná jó oko, ó jó igbó 

Oòrùn ta ṣàṣà j'ọ́dàn

Iná bí o bá jó oko

Kí o má mà jó sẹ̀gi

Eku tó fín

Ní wọ́n fi nbọ Orí Alárà

Eyi to pe sara-sara 

La mú bọ Èṣù òdàrà l'Úfẹ̀

Gbàmí-gbàmí làá ṣ'àgbà 

Ẹnìkan kìí gba mé'ṣẹ̀ mé'rò

Dá fún Ọ̀rúnmìlà 

Ifá nlọ gba Aládó Èwí kalẹ̀ tọmọ-tọmọ

Lọ́wọ́ ajogun ibi

Ẹbọ ní Awo ní kí o wá ṣe

Njẹ́ Ifá mo ké mọ̀'gbà

Ènìyàn tó bá ní ká gba'ni

Làá gbà! 

If they ask for the basis of your name

Ifá I affirm, your name is Worthy 

A citizen of Ado 

A native of the hills of Efon 

Bolajoko the Trumpeter

Whose horn is made of an elephant tusk

A freeborn in the city of Iwanran 

Where the dawn breaks

An offspring of the sturdy palm tree 

With stretched hands by the riverside 

An offspring of a fresh palm frond

Standing upright before the farmer

Though fire consumes farms and shrubs

Though the sun scorches the desert

If fire must ravage the land

Let it spare the coral beads

A healthy rat 

Is used for Alara's rogation

A complete one is offered 

For litany to Esu Odara in Ifẹ 

Refuge is sought from the Elders,

For compassion is far from the proud.

Ifá's revelation for Orunmila 

He was on a mission to save Alado Ewì

And his household from pestilence 

He was asked to offer sacrifices 

Now Ifá I cried for refuge 

For only those who cry for help

Are ever saved.

In that moment, everything aligned.

I finally understood why pain and shame departed from my life the very moment I humbled myself and reconciled with my roots.

And yes—my curse on my Ojugbónà did take effect. It clung like metal to a magnet. What I did not know then was this eternal truth:

The ashes always return to the one who throws them.